Qui
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 27, 2007
- Messages
- 2,252
- Reaction score
- 11
apparently. I woke up one morning to find this scrawled on the wall by my bed, about a foot from my face. It's in my handwriting, which is really quite distinct, so apparently I wrote it in my sleep. The part where I wrote on my wall isn't so weird though, I have a sharpie sitting at the head of my bead just for that purpose. Yet somehow... this is written in a wet-erase overhead projector marker (?) so that's a little odd. That, and I have no memory whatsoever of writing it. Even though it does basically detail my outlook on life. Basically. I've broken it up in lines the way that it is on my wall, it's squeezed in the space between a large scribble, a very angular picture of a jolly roger, and a poem half in french and half in english. The last part of it a bit hard to read, it's written over an old and rather emo poem about the world being over (an over-dramatic response to the day in junior high when I went to the grocery store and they where out of diet coke, lol)
So, this thing is metered, but the metering has nothing to do with the line breaks. It just flows a certain way. And I spelled "arranged" wrong. Sorry about that.
Stupidity is complex.
But wisdom is simple.
It is what it is.
I say nothing
profound,
or even very
interesting.
My words
are only
sounds
and letters
I have
aranged
to have
a
meaning.
But the meaning is so
shallow it hardly
holds the words together
until it all begins
to blur into obscurity
and none of it really
ever mattered anyway.
And upon hearing
spoke the final word,
the first has long
since faded from the
mind, the rest
to quickly
follow
just
behind
such is the
fate of all
I had wrote,
yet here I am
with my pen
at hand,
and I trust
that all I'm
feeling you've
all felt a
thousand times
or more, and
every thought I've
had, you've
thought before.
Perhaps then you could
tell me what it is
that I'll be next
for with each hour
I'm changing to become
all I am not. And if
all I am is what I've
thought, each day I think
anew, but all that I can
find, I find had first been
thought by you. To say
that no one under-
stands, I know would
be a lie, the only
truth I know is
true,
you all must
surely know me
better than
I do.
So, this thing is metered, but the metering has nothing to do with the line breaks. It just flows a certain way. And I spelled "arranged" wrong. Sorry about that.
Stupidity is complex.
But wisdom is simple.
It is what it is.
I say nothing
profound,
or even very
interesting.
My words
are only
sounds
and letters
I have
aranged
to have
a
meaning.
But the meaning is so
shallow it hardly
holds the words together
until it all begins
to blur into obscurity
and none of it really
ever mattered anyway.
And upon hearing
spoke the final word,
the first has long
since faded from the
mind, the rest
to quickly
follow
just
behind
such is the
fate of all
I had wrote,
yet here I am
with my pen
at hand,
and I trust
that all I'm
feeling you've
all felt a
thousand times
or more, and
every thought I've
had, you've
thought before.
Perhaps then you could
tell me what it is
that I'll be next
for with each hour
I'm changing to become
all I am not. And if
all I am is what I've
thought, each day I think
anew, but all that I can
find, I find had first been
thought by you. To say
that no one under-
stands, I know would
be a lie, the only
truth I know is
true,
you all must
surely know me
better than
I do.